Ashcan Blues
#135: Dad and the Ashcan School, Nishant Jain, Ahmed Ghoneim and Belal Khaled, Kyiv murals, Lion Dancing, Square America, Indigenous Languages, Maguindanao Kulintang, and Susie Ibarra
HERE & NOW
My recovery is moving along well. I’m going for short walks now, and looking forward to riding my bike again.
However, my perspective on making art, the role of art, selling it, and posting it online, is in an unsettled place right now. Maybe it’s the “blues.” Or just a weird state where I find myself questioning everything relating to art including myself. I guess all artists experience this; maybe it’s even healthy. And perhaps this is what happens when one is recovering from a fall or an illness and you’ve got some time to think. Then again, reading articles and books on anarchism1 while recovering from a fall can’t be without repercussions.
I could also blame this recent spate of reading on my dad, who decided I should be an artist when I was very young, and started me off when I was about seven—not by giving me a book on how to paint cute bunnies and trees—but rather a how-to-paint book showing only examples from the Ashcan School of art.
So, right from the beginning I assumed that art had to relate to social conditions and the working classes. Later in life, this contrasted with my equally strong impulse to be contrary and experimental and to escape from being pinned down to any one meaning.
After briefly interning at a graphics studio run by a famous artist in Manila, where he learned to paint signs using gold leaf,2 Dad did a turnaround and migrated with his brother to the US in search of fame and fortune . . . or maybe just a regular paycheck.
He spent the next decade or so working in the agricultural fields as a laborer, with occasional stints as a cook and dishwasher in San Francisco, and as a band musician—until war brought him a union job cooking in the galleys of hospital ships and merchant marine ships delivering troops and supplies to the allies.
Unlike most Filipino parents, Dad did not subscribe to any religion, and certainly not to Christianity. Mom said it had something to do with the fact that his parents gave away their family land to the Catholic church—land that should’ve been passed down to their children. As usual, I never knew the details. Did they give it away out of a sense of piety? Were they tricked? I have no idea. That and Dad’s work experiences probably didn’t lighten up his attitude towards the church or other institutions.
Can unspoken resentments get passed down to children in, say, forms of class consciousness and a certain contrariness? Can it affect how one feels about making art? I think making art is best when you don’t think too much about it. Just do it.
ART
The artist3 in me says:
RABBIT HOLE
This site is not going to be a place to escape from the fact that we live in a world where war, fascism, and genocide is happening. Artists and musicians continue to express their perspectives on these tragic conflicts.
This is a “then and now” post. Four years ago, Ahmed Ghoneim interviewed artist, calligrapher, and press photographer Belal Khaled about his beautiful calligraphic street art.
Today, Khaled is alive and working as a press photographer documenting the ongoing tragedy in Gaza. Interviewed a few days ago, he reports on what’s happening in Rafa:
War-themed murals are appearing on buildings in Kyiv, Ukraine (AP, article by Efrem Lukatsky)
Nishant Jain’s “Sneaky Artist” urban drawings caught my eye when I discovered that he often gives them away for free by depositing them in tiny free libraries and cafes, among other spots. In a recent Substack newsletter post (#223) he describes (and draws) the night his wife gave birth. Incidentally, what he says in the post about the Canadian healthcare system makes me very jealous. Previously, he and his family lived in the U.S.
“I hate to harp on about this but … when you live in America you hear many horror stories about the healthcare system of Canada. Not enough specialists. Long wait times. But when you leave, you realize this is America’s recurring habit when speaking about the outside world. —Nishant Jain
You’ve seen it at Lunar New Year and in Chinatowns—but what is the significance of the Lion Dance, and what does it take to be a lion dancer? Video from New York Times:
I found Nicholas Osborne’s Square America site years ago. He kindly gave me permission to use one of his collected photos for a blog post in 2007. He collects old, discarded photos and negatives from “flea markets, antique stores, estate sales and eBay,” and posts many of them online. I recently discovered him again on Instagram. What these found images reveal about American life are by turns embarrassing, touching, sublime, and/or disturbing (almost “Lynchian”)—but always food for thought.
Indigenous languages as founts of environmental knowledge. What we can learn from these languages may help us get to know our local environments better and possibly help us survive.
SOUNDINGS
Kulintang performances on a stage or in a theater, especially when celebrating important events, seem very traditional, dignified, and sometimes a bit self-conscious. But that contrasts with some of the informal community kulintang “bashes” in the Philippines that I see on Youtube. These events can be raucous, competitive, and even flirty, with support from the crowd expressed by whoops, screams, and laughter. Kulintang sa Maguindanao, on Mr. POPU’s channel:
Resonance, by Filipinx composer, percussionist, and sound artist Susie Ibarra, at the San Francisco Exploratorium:
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Check out my Neocities site for my links list.
Includes books and articles by Oli Mould (Christian anarchist), Nico Armin (Buddhist anarchist), Zoe Baker, David Graeber, and Peter Kropotkin.
Last time I looked, his “Hotel” sign in gold leaf still graces the glass window of a door on a tenement in San Francisco’s Chinatown.
Or maybe it’s the voice of Bob Dylan: The title of my ink drawing is from “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright”© by Bob Dylan, Special Rider Music, Universal Tunes.